A Good Man
by Copy-Nin's Daughter
Summary: Missing scenes, unique point of views, and eventually a more rounded-out ending to The Final Problem. SPOILERS! (Obviously.) T because, well, the episode? Short updates on purpose.
1. Chapter 1

Hello Sherlock fandom!

So, I've done an awful job of keep by up p with my other stories, but I'd like to think it's just because I've drifted away from certain fandoms. But Sherlock? Bring it!

I watched The Final Problem a few days ago, and I've had a series of missing scenes/unique point-of-view ideas, and eventually a better ending that have been developing in my head. So, I decided, since they're probably going to all be shorter than a thousand words each, to do my very first drabble set. (That's what you call it, right?)

Anyways, without further ado, here is the first of some "hole-fillers" for the most tense episode of the series.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, and Masterpiece do.

1.

Sherlock heard John's familiar walk as he made his way up the stairs, and he prepared himself for the dramatic reveal of the paper that his "not drug induced visitor, the fake Faith" had left.

He was not prepared to see the murderous look on his friend's face.

All thoughts of being dramatic exited Sherlock's mind, and instead he frantically searched through his mind palace for some explanation of John's anger.

Was he still upset about Mary?

Well of course he was.

But was he still upset with Sherlock about Mary was the question...

"Um, John?" he ventured.

John walked forward, sat in his chair, and laid something on the table beside him.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and ventured a step closer.

It was a tranquilizer dart.

"Uh..."

"So, when were you going to tell me you had a psychotic sister?"

Sherlock stiffened, his mind going blank, as he stared first at the tranquilizer and then at John.

"I'm sorry, say again?"

"You damn well heard me, Sherlock! My therapist, your crazy sister! Eurrus, the 'east wind'."

Now Sherlock's mind was racing.

John was standing again, and this time his face was inches from Sherlock's.

"I thought she was going to kill me. She pointed a gun at my face. And guess what? She was also the bloody woman I was texting!"

Sherlock vaguely registered the beginning's of watery eyes in his companion.

But.

A sister?

...

Really?

He finally found his voice.

"I didn't know. Are you positive?"

John stopped mid rant and took a step back, staring at Sherlock in disbelief.

"Didn't know? The famed smarter-than-everyone-bloody-Sherlock didn't know he had a sister?"

Sherlock just stared at him. He realized that he was feeling oddly numb.

Was that how one was supposed to feel when they realized they'd been lied to?

Was this how John had felt with first him, and then Mary?

It wasn't fun.

At Sherlock's pleading look, John scoffed.

"Bloody, Mycroft."

Sherlock's gaze sharpened.

"Why do you say that?"

"He slipped up a few weeks ago, before the case was over. He-I mean, you really didn't know?"

At Sherlock's raised eyebrow, John ran his hands through his hair as he muttered curses.

"Well then, lets go confront the git, shall we?"

Sherlock's gaze followed John as he walked over to the door.

"From the look on your face, Mycroft isn't going to like this is he?"

John smiled, but there was no amusement in it.

"She shot me. With a tranq, yeah, but still. Now, do you have contact with some of your homeless network?"

Sherlock wasn't sure he liked the vindictive look on John's face. "Perhaps. Why?"

John smirked. "Because I don't think Mycroft bloody Holmes will tell us the truth unless he's peeing his pants in fright."

~after the opening scene~

Sherlock glanced at John as they walked to the road where a cab was waiting for them.

"So, was that alright?"

John smiled, and it sent a shiver down Sherlock's spine.

"Perfect."

Scene number one down. Next one will be Mrs. Hudson's point of view when Mycroft shows up.

In case you have a specific idea about a scene, or have an idea about a part that was missing, let me know because I'm open to opinions!

Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

And without further ado, may I present to you the red sports car driving not-housekeeper, Mrs. Hudson!

Disclaimer: Ain't nothin' changed since last time.

2.

Mrs. Hudson knew that something was brewing. Sherlock and John had both been quiet and subdued all morning. They had spoken in soft tones to each other occasionally, but otherwise, they'd both been pacing, shifting restlessly in their respective chairs, and drinking copious amounts of tea.

Sherlock was understandable. Goodness knew she'd seen him do much stranger things.

(Like drugging himself out of his mind a few weeks before just so he could get John's attention.)

But John being this agitated? Granted, with the horrible business of Mary dying, the poor man had been out of sorts more often than naught lately, but this was different.

And then the bell rang.

Looking toward the stairs, Mrs. Hudson hesitated. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a satisfied smirk settle onto John's face and it made her wonder.

"Well then, I'll just go and get that."

When she opened the door, the last thing she had expected to see was Mycroft Holmes.

Scowling, she put her hands up against the doorframe, barring him from entrance.

"Mrs. Hudson, it would behoove you to let me inside. I must speak to my brother and the good Doctor."

"Last time you were in here I told you to get out of my home in no uncertain terms. Why should I let you back in now?"

Mycroft sighed, and for a moment, Mrs. Hudson could have sworn he looked like a lost little boy.

"I need Sherlock's help, and I don't think he'll give it to me unless I ask him here."

It was so bluntly honest for one such as Mycroft, that she found herself moving aside for him.

"Well then. Behave yourself and I suppose you can go talk to them. I do believe they've been waiting for you."

And then she was watching him make his way up the staircase.

My my. This might be pretty interesting. With a small smile of glee on her face, she followed him up the stairs.

And this is why I'm horrible at multi-chapter stories. I can never update anything regularly.

Next chapter, the aftermath of the explosion in the apartment.


End file.
